


ChaosTheory

by CaptainDude (HandbagMurder)



Series: South Park one shots [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: I like guys what moan, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, a testament to disappointing your friends and family, bottom!Craig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandbagMurder/pseuds/CaptainDude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine a world where we are all just corpses animated by concepts hurtling meaninglessly across a void of time and space. (And have sex with it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	ChaosTheory

Tweek doesn’t really know how it happened.

It probably started when he was nine, and he sat next to Craig in school and he noticed that he had soulful brown eyes like a deer or a puppy, and those days are kind of blurry and faded now but if that was how it started, this is how it ends – his breath is catching in the root of his throat and his groin is hot and aching to feel something against it. Something tight or wet or warm. The room around him seems to be crumbling to dust, and Craig’s hair smells like shampoo and wet wool when their noses are touching. Hands on his skin make goose pimples rise on his shoulders, and who would have guessed it would happen like this, those brief moments compounding, spiralling upwards and somehow colliding, and here they are. He is seventeen and Craig is sixteen. They are in Craig’s bedroom and the night is starting to creep through the windows. Far above the earth, in the empty sphere where Tweek finds solace from his fears and anxieties a billion stars are dying, and inside his chest a billion more are bursting into life.

His flesh is crawling, and the way Craig kisses him is unreal. It makes the rest of the world go silent, and it’s like the edge of the world, because as soon as it happens Tweek is falling. Falling into oblivion where the only thing is Craig and his skin and his hair and his mouth. His body trembles, and even though Craig feels like he weighs a million tonnes he is simultaneously the most fragile thing in the world. Tweek finds himself hunting for the contours of his waist, his chest, the backs of his thighs. These strange planes only become real when he touches them - As soon as his fingers glide past each furrow and swell they disappear again into nothing, just a memory lingering among firing neurons and his nerve endings. His breathing catches, and Craig growls in frustration. Their elbows are too pointy and too numerous. Their clothing is too much fabric between them.

Craig sits up and pulls his shirt off, and underneath his body is beautiful, like he had been designed to have Tweek see him like this. Really _see_ him.

Tweek thinks he’s hallucinating again. That he’s taken too many pills and this is some wonderful trip. Or maybe he hasn’t taken pills in a while and this is his body’s way of saying _feed me_ , but then Craig touches his throat and his fingertips feel like sweeter medicine than Tweek has ever been prescribed. He swallows, and not a single inch of his body isn’t tingling.

“… I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Craig sounds the same as always, but inside some part of him he must be surprised. Somewhere in that sterile body, with that expression like a blank slate and those eyes like quiet earth he must be wondering what happened, why of all the people and of all the lifetimes he had to be born in this one, now. Straddling Tweek’s hips and looking for salvation in bruised and chapped lips. Tweek knows he’s no prize specimen. Maybe its destiny or maybe it’s just a huge mistake. Up until today he always thought he believed in fate, but now he’s wondering if his life was really just a massive cosmic joke and he _wants_ to be the punch line.

 “Nn.. Neither can I.”

He thinks he’s been desperate for Craig forever, but he knows that he never really believed in Craig like he could believe in the boundaries of his own flesh and bones. He could never be sure if Craig was a real person or a rebel thought in his own fucked up head, but now he knows that he’s alive, and they are the same. Two cosmic bodies hurtling through a void of meaningless life and death, two corpses animated by thoughts which come seemingly from nowhere and disappear like wisps of smoke on the wind. They are crashing together, at breakneck speed, and Craig’s hips are pressing against his and his jeans are tented in the front like he _wants_ it. He really, really wants it. And he doesn’t care if Tweek knows.

Tweek fumbles with Craig’s fly and Craig tries to help him, their fingers get in each others way but soon Craig is standing up and the mattress creaks but he manages to get his jeans and briefs off and throw them aside like they were never a problem to begin with. Tweek shimmies out of his own and drags his underwear down his legs.

“But you’re still going to fuck me right?”

Tweek nods frantically.

“Uh huh.”

He’s in too deep to back out now.

Craig sits on his pelvis and grabs the sides of his face, his fingers tug dishevelled blond hair and leave scratches on Tweek’s scalp but he doesn’t care because the little fragments of pain just add to the huge mass of pleasure in his core. It’s making his dick hard and his toes curl, and his heartbeat is racing like it might give out and some part of him hopes it will just to unhinge himself from this fleshy anchor and really be inside this boy who is kissing him like he wants their souls to start to join. His tongue is soft and hot and Tweek lets it press against his own. His legs are thick and muscular, and under Tweek’s hands they tense and shiver. The more they kiss, the more he needs to breathe, but the starvation is shutting down the parts of his brain that are analysing. The parts that are throbbing with horror and shock and screaming _stop_ like it’s possible to put breaks on the gravity dragging them together.

And then cold air is flooding his lungs and he’s gasping, because Craig is sliding down his body and the places his mouth is going are starting to turn to liquid sluicing through his guts and spine. Heat on his cockhead, and hands on his hips, and Tweek feels a loud moan tear from his chest like he is feeling the heat plunge to his loins. The weight there, the wetness. It’s all far too much to keep a handle on and thank god Craig knows what he wants. Thank god Craig has a clue because Tweek is blind and directionless and the only think he can think is _more._

“Y-you’regunnamakemecum.”

It all comes out, he is haemorrhaging words, and Craig pulls off him and tightens his grip.

“Pass me the lube in the drawer.”

Tweek almost bends backwards to find the little bottle, and his hand knocks magazines and cigarette lighters and a box of tissues as he hunts for it in the side table. It doesn’t occur to him to ask if this is Craig’s first time or his millionth. It doesn’t bother him right now because this is definitely the closest _he_ has ever been to anyone and he doesn’t want to ruin it by remembering there are people beyond their bodies and there is a world outside the four walls of this space. Craig takes the bottle, and the liquid flows over his fingertips like syrup, and his hand disappears between his legs like he _has_ done this before and it’s so deliberate. So intentional. No accident or anything it’s like he’s _thought about this ahead of time_ but how, when everything is flux and the illusion of consistency is just as persistent as the nightmares Tweek has where he is falling, and no one is there to catch him when he hits the ground.

“Look at me.” Craig reaches for his chin with his spare hand and keeps it steady while he fingers himself. “ _Focus_.”

But it’s hard to focus. Craig looks so intensely that he hurts. He stares like the eyes Tweek feels on his back late at night, and no matter how many drugs he takes he can’t shake the feeling of being watched and maybe it’s the gaze of a heartless god or maybe it’s the searching look of someone begging for him to come back to reality. To belong here and now with everyone else but Tweek is up to his ankles in stardust and infinity and he cant make sense of the world around him any more than he can understand why Craig looks so much like he’s in pain. Why he is making noises like he is dying and yet persisting. Fucking himself, preparing himself to be torn up and consumed and scattered like sand in the cyclones of alien worlds.

If Tweek hadn’t been here, if Tweek had been someone else, anyone else, with a clear head and eyes which saw reality then maybe he wouldn’t be so helpless to stare. If he hadn’t been so stupid as to sit down next to Craig and say ‘can I borrow a pencil, maybe’, things would have been different and Craig would be the one lying on his back in his bed, breathing heavily and feeling isolated. Frantic. Alone.

“ _Are you okay_?” Tweek doesn’t recognise his voice. He doesn’t recognise the way Craig’s expression starts to bleed around the edges and he doesn’t recognise the sound Craig makes as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dick pressing against the inside of his thigh.

“Yes!”

Tweek feels his stomach lurch. His hands curl in the duvet and Craig tenses his jaw as he slides onto him. “Oh _fuck!_ ”

And this time it’s real pain which twists his features, sharper than the aching which seems to boil over in Tweek’s stomach and turn to bliss as Craig takes him in. It’s hot like this, and its smooth, and the tight places he is filling seem so claustrophobic but its better than those big spaces he has to deal with every day when he opens his goddamned eyes.

_“Jesus Christ.”_

And then Craig is riding him, like he isn’t bothered by the hurt or maybe he _likes_ it. Maybe he likes feeling his body full and splitting around the edges. Maybe he likes the heat and wetness of lube rubbing between his legs. Tweek finds sanctuary in the dark space that exists when Craig leans close and latches onto his neck. He finds security in the heavy breathing, the soft moans which soon become loud ones, and soon Craig is panting into his ear and he realises that he is pushing upwards, the bed is creaking, and they are twisting together and grabbing each other like they are the last solid points in a universe of chaos all around them.

Tweek pushes him over and feels teeth sink into the side of his neck. The hands dragging through his hair aren’t his, and Craig’s body arches against him to make it easier to fuck. It comes naturally or maybe it’s instinctively. He isn’t really thinking it just happens and under his weight Craig is starting to loose his voice, and his temper, and he keeps saying _harder_ when he means to ask for _faster_ and he keeps saying _faster_ when he means to ask for _rough_. His nails are digging into Tweek’s shoulders, and the muscles in Tweek’s legs are growing sore, but pleasure is still spreading along the inside of his thighs and like a mechanism winding he feels pressure building in his stomach. Craig groans and jerks his hips up, his lips are parted and dark and his eyes are still darting, searching, locking with Tweek’s and drilling into them until they are forehead to forehead and trying to find breath in each others mouths.

_Don’t stop don’t Fucking Stop._

Tweek shudders, and Craig gasps, and finally his eyes flutter shut just as his grip tightens and those thighs around Tweek’s hips feel like a prison he never wants to leave. He’s a captive, and he’s sweating, and he can feel his whole body starting to crack and malfunction. He probably couldn’t stop now if he tried.

He wants to say kiss me, but he seems to have forgotten the words.

As Craig comes undone, Tweek lets his hands wander, and he finds himself pushing and pulling the body on his cock as desperately ad his partner is digging raised red marks in the bare flesh on the surface of his back. Craig’s body gets rigid, and his breathing is so shallow, and then he is cursing and _“oh_ GOD YES!” and it’s all over like that. Tweek’s body is spent, he cums like he is being slammed backwards, and breathless he falls onto Craig’s chest where he can hear a heart racing like he has never heard before. He’s never been close enough to someone to know what their pulse sounds like, and now he feels like there are no boundaries between them. There is just one point in the universe and that point is where they are joined.

Craig’s breath leaks out of him like air in a tire, and he is limp and sticky and shaking but he is still gripping Tweek’s hair like its sacred. Like he needs it. The longer they lie there the colder Tweek gets, but the more he wants to never move in case they ruin this moment and they are sent spiralling, rampant across the directionless field of time and space and never allowed to collide together again.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> i think im an unhappy person tbh.


End file.
